SONNET.

Though narrow be that Old Man's cares, and near

The poor Old Man is greater than he seems:

For he hath waking empire, wide as dreams;

An ample sovereignty of eye and ear.

Rich are his walks with supernatural chear;

The region of his inner spirit teems

With vital sounds, and monitory gleams

Of high astonishment and pleasing fear.

He the seven birds hath seen that never part,

Seen the SEVEN WHISTLERS in their nightly rounds,

And counted them: and oftentimes will start —

For overhead are sweeping GABRIEL'S HOUNDS,

Doom'd, with their impious Lord, the flying Hart

To chase for ever, on aerial grounds.